As Yet Unseen
by snails-on-the-french-riviera
Summary: When Olivia and Elliot are kidnapped --yes, you read that right-- in the middle of an investigation, things start to get a little odd. not to mention confusing. a Harry Potter/SVU crossover featuring Gay!Fey!Harry. Majorly AU for HP. XD
1. Chapter 1

Prologue and Interweave I

_Interweave I_

_I do not know when the lines between dark and light blurred so far that I can no longer see them. I do not know when I became so incased in my own bitter hatred of them that I became one of them. I do not know, and I hate my self for not knowing. _

_I only pray that the others will not be like me, will not dwell so much on darkness that they are stained black with it. Our honor is all we have left, all that separates us from them. And with each stain on it, with each unworthy act, committed to save a life, I fear we become more like them._

_The Unseelie._

_The sound of their name, even in thought, brings a chill into my mind and ice to my veins._

_Unseelie, the darker fey court. They who torment mortals for the fun of it, rejoice in their screams and in their blood on the ground and in their pain and torment and dying. _

_Unseelie. Those unholy phantoms who ride on the dark wings of the night, who steal children, leave their own in their place, and care nothing for the suffering they cause._

_Unseelie. My people._

_I was once one of them. I rode the on the heels of the storms and reveled in the darkness. I sang the dark songs and hungered for the blood and the pain, and I was like them._

_I was not always so. My kind is of the wild fey, those not bound to either court, dark or light. Through my own foolish ambition, I swore an oath to the king of the Unseelie court, to protect and to serve him, obey his every whim, in exchange for his favor._

_That was my downfall, and my eternal torment._

**Prologue **

Somewhere in New York City:

A dark alleyway.

Three hulking figures gathered close around a fourth, much smaller form.

A man's voice, laughing low. "Are you backing out of our agreement, Boy?"

A boy's voice, ringing out clear in frustrated anger. "We have no agreement! How can we when you refuse to state your terms!?"

"I have stated my terms. You give me what I want, and I give you what you need. Simple as that."

"But what is it you want?!"

"Are you agreeing then?"

A pause. "I will agree to this: I will give you what you want, so long as it is within my power to give and brings no harm upon my family or those I love, in exchange for the information I seek. Is this acceptable?"

The man smiles, slow and cold. "This is acceptable."

"Then it is done."

"It is done."

A long, slow silence. Then, "What is it you want?"

The man laughs, leans close to the boy.

Whispers.

"You."

Blackout.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1: Beginnings **

**In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. **

**These are their stories.**

**0=Chung=-=.=-=Chung=0**

___New York City, NYPD Police Station, 16th Precinct. 11:30 PM, Saturday July 12, 2007 ___

At the small window in the back of the precinct, overlooking the darkened shops, a woman stood watching the night. A short spill of dark brown hair cascaded down her back, escaping with ease from its pins and ties—untamable hair, and an untamable woman. Her dark eyes gazed out from beneath inky black lashes, eyes that missed nothing as they stared out into the dark. Her clothes were as dark as the night outside, but simple and sensible- dark pants, dark jacket, dark shirt. Not a muscle twitched, not an eye blinked, no motion nor movement did she make. And she stood there silently, palms pressed tight against the glass, dark eyes roving as she watched the night.

It was, in fact, a dark and stormy night. All nights are dark I suppose, but this one especially so. The heavy storm clouds had blocked out the moon from view and obscured the stars—not that you could have seen them. This is New York City, after all; the lights will never go out. At any time of the day or night, someone somewhere among the streets and skyscrapers is wakeful.

For the city never sleeps.

But tonight even the most tenacious night owls did not stray far from their beds; heavy rains and freezing winds kept all but madmen and the truly desperate from the streets. Streets normally flooded with cars and pedestrians lay near deserted; debris tumbled and blew unheeded in the alleyways.

A district wide power failure held Manhattan in its grips; a whole chunk of the city fallen dark and silent, save for the moaning of the wind. A kind of pall hung over the city, a quiet stillness.

Not a creature moved.

The woman didn't trust it.

It felt wrong somehow, this stillness—false. The very air seemed to whisper to her a warning to be on her guard. Perhaps it was simply the unease that comes with being helpless in the face of a storm, or perhaps it was something more, the woman didn't know. But something out there, out there in the dark streets, tugged at the edges of her soul and made her fearful.

A soft voice broke her from her silent reverie. "Olivia," a deep man's voice called out to her, and a gentle hand came to rest on her elbow.

Olivia whirled, unthinking, and lashed out at the man. Her hand stopped mere centimeters short of breaking his nose.

"Elliot!" she breathed, and lowered her hand, blushing in consternation. "umm… oops?"

Elliot Stabler met her gaze steadily, not appearing at all surprised by her aborted attack. "Olivia," he said again, concern shining in his eyes. "You okay?"

Olivia forced a smile at her partner. No she wasn't okay- she was stressed out and jumping at shadows, but there was no way she'd ever admit to it. "I'm fine," she said, not sure if she was reassuring him or herself. "I'm just a little jumpy. Don't worry about it." Elliot was unconvinced. "You've been staring out at the streets for the past half hour, and you haven't moved at all. As far as I can tell," -he glanced out at the downpour, and scowled- "there's nothing all that fascinating out there. Something is bothering you."

She grimaced. Elliot knew her well—too well for her liking, sometimes.

She tried one more time. "I really am fine-" Elliot quirked an eyebrow skeptically, and shook his head. "Olivia. You're not fine."

She sighed, and gave up. "Alright, so I'm a bit twitchy."

"I'll say!"

"Shut up. I know it sounds stupid, but I keep feeling like something's out there. Like something big is going to happen. It's driving me crazy."

Elliot looked at her and then out the window. "Something is happening. It's called a lightning storm."

She shook her head. "It's more than just that. I keep seeing—" She hesitated, and impulsively stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, pushing her head against his shoulder. It was easier to say these things if she didn't have to look at him. She didn't want to see the look in his eyes. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible, muffled by his sweater. "I—I'm not really sure what I'm seeing… flashes of color in the corners of my eyes, and when I turn my head, nothing's there. But—I can feel them being there, and—and these last few weeks, ever since we took this case, its been getting worse and worse, and I'm snapping at people and I don't know why, and--"

"Olivia." Elliot cut her off and took her by the shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. "You're stressed out. The last couple of weeks have been hell. And it's not just you, this case is getting to all of us. You're running off adrenaline and it's messing with your mind—Fin's the same way. And the exhaustion probably isn't helping. Just get some rest, okay?"

He sounded convincing, but Olivia wasn't so sure. These things she was seeing- or almost seeing- they didn't seem like the normal effects of an over tired mind. She knew what those were like all too well, and this was different—more vivid, more distinct. More real. Things she'd known her entire life and never minded, like the constant rush of traffic and the closed in spaces and the dead air in the city streets, were grating on her nerves, making her snappish and dissatisfied. And she was constantly taking it out on her teammates, Fin especially. Everything about him now, the way he looked, talked, dressed…everything, just made her so—she didn't even know. Like his very presence, very existence, was an insult and an abomination. Even thinking about him made her lip curl. But that made no sense! Fin was her friend, a good cop and she trusted him, loved him like a brother! What was wrong with her?

Elliot was looking suspiciously at her, frowning. "How long has it been since you've slept?" he demanded abruptly.

Olivia shrugged, not looking up at him, but answered honestly. "I don't know, a couple days, maybe? No more than a week."

Elliot stared incredulously at her. "Benson! How are you even still standing?" He was upset with her, she could tell. He only ever used her surname when he was unhappy.

"Caffeine. Does wonders for exhaustion."

The stare turned into a glare. He was in full-fledged mother hen mode now. "Go home."

Olivia wasn't sure she even could at this point. All the caffeine and sugar—and something else she didn't recognize—was thrumming in her veins, demanding she be awake. "I'm fine, Elliot. I never sleep much anyways."

Elliot refused to let her off so easy. "Olivia. You need to sleep and you know it. The power's out, nothing's going to happen for a few hours, so just go home."

"No. I'm not tired."

" 'Liv, You're swaying."

"Am not!"

"Are too. Just go, okay? Please?"

"You need me here."

"Nothing is happening. The rest of us are gonna call it a night in an hour or so anyways. Go home and get some rest, Olivia."

Olivia crossed her arms and pouted childishly. "Don't wanna," she muttered. She hated when he did this. He just couldn't let her be, could he? She peeked up at him, and instantly regretted it. He was making puppy dog eyes at her. Her resolve weakened in the face of Elliot's Puppy dog look. It was surprisingly good. He sensed weakness and intensified the look. Olivia gave in. 'Fine. Call me if something comes up?"

"Not on your life! Relax, Olivia. Nothing is going to happen tonight." He was smiling now that he'd achieved his goal, looking quite pleased with himself.

"…I hate you…" Olivia pushed past him and walked over to the lockers. She grabbed her things and made to leave the station. Pausing on her way out the back door, she looked back at her partner. He wasn't looking at her, but he seemed hurt. She sighed, regretting her words. Of course she hadn't meant them, and Elliot should know that, but she never should have said something so childish in the first place. He was only trying to take care of her. "Elliot?" The man finally looked at her. "Thanks." She murmured, and he smiled a tiny bit. "Any time, 'Liv. Anytime."

_--__---__--_--_---___--_-------__

As she crawled under the covers that night, Olivia's lips curled into a smile. Elliot was a good guy, for all that he mothered her.

"Interfering busy body…"

The bed was surprisingly comfortable, for a cheap, seldom used antique. She closed her eyes. This wasn't so bad. Maybe she could sleep a bit. An hour…. Or two…

Olivia drifted off to sleep, curled up comfortably on her bed.

_--___--___---__-__-_-___---___--____-___------____---_---_-___--____-____-----____-

Elliot watched Olivia go, smiling softly at her back. He stood there for a second after the door swung shut behind her, gazing out the window. "I wonder… what did she see that has her so worried..."

At last, after several long moments, he turned away. "Mind playing tricks, Elliot. Just the mind playing tricks." He left the back room, striding swiftly past the few empty cells back into the main part of the station. Fin and Munch were waiting there, sitting tiredly at their desks, Fin's head slumped over onto his papers. All four of the detectives, well, three now that Olivia was going home, were working overtime trying to assemble enough evidence for an arrest. The power was out thanks to the storm, but the emergency lights provided enough light to see by, and a number of flashlights had been brought out.

Munch looked up at Elliot's passing. "How is she?" he said quietly, a mixture of weariness and concern on his face. The last few weeks had been tough on all of them, working this case. Six little girls had been ritualistically raped and murdered, one per week, their bodies showing up dumped in public places like clockwork on Monday mornings. Today was Saturday. They had only one day to find their killer, or another girl died. Talk about pressure. No evidence was left at any of the dump sites or on the vics, and they had yet to find the actual crime scene. No one had a motive, no one had any idea what the connection was between the six—no one had anything at all. Not anymore. Their only leads had all dried up within days of each other, leaving the detectives with nothing—no evidence, no suspects, and no justice for the families of the little girls. The mayor was pushing them to make an arrest, but with no clues at all, this was impossible. None of them were taking this very well, but Olivia had been hit hardest of all. She had promised those families a conviction, and to have come so close, and then have everything turn out to be false- it was too much to bear, almost. "She lets herself get in too close," Elliot murmured aloud, "Every time- every time, she gets hurt." The other two nodded in understanding. Olivia had a knack for identifying with rape victims, a knack none of them possessed, but that same ability that helped them catch the bad guys was hurting Olivia. All of them feared that one day she would get in too deep, and not be able to move on. And thinking back on what she had said, Elliot feared that perhaps this was the case that would do it. "She pushes herself too hard," Fin grumbled, "someday she's gonna drive herself into the ground." Olivia had been rather short with him recently, and in fact he'd been feeling like snapping at her as well. But he hadn't, knowing that it was only the stress of this gastly affair, and that when it was all over, things would go back to the way they were supposed to be. Elliot nodded in agreement with his statement. "I—I worry about her," he admitted. "She hasn't slept in about a week."

"You manage to talk some sense into her?"

Elliot nodded, but said nothing of what had passed between the two of them. Olivia trusted him to keep her secrets, and he did. If she wanted the guys to know something, she would tell them.

"She's gone home," was all he said.

Munch raised one grey brow. "How'd you convince her to do that? I thought she lived here."

Elliot smiled wryly. "It wasn't so much convincing as ordering, per-say."

"Ah."

They said no more on that matter, turning each instead to his own thoughts or work, but the silence that fell about them was a comfortable and companionable one. No more needed to be said.

All was well.

-__-__-----__---__--_--__--_-____-_____-----___--___---__

**Elliot's Apartment, 4:13 AM, Sunday July 14, 2007.**

The silence was shattered by the ringing of a phone, the tones of the bell falling harsh and jagged into the air.

Elliot jerked awake. He groaned and rolled over in his bed. "What the hell…" he muttered. He half expected his wife to wake up and scold him for cursing and waking her up before he remembered where he was. She had left him months ago, fed up with him never being home, never talking to her, always working—police marriages were always hard, but he hadn't expected her to end it.

Elliot shoved his head under his pillow. Why was he thinking of her?

The phone rang again, louder. He pressed the pillow over his ears, not wanting to wake up. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was 4:13 am—a ridiculous time of the morning, even for him. The phone was ringing constantly now, it's loud abrasive tones echoing and overlapping and multiplying by the second. Still, Elliot refused to pick it up. The damn thing could ring all it wanted, he wasn't getting up.

_Riiing. Riiing. Riiing._

The caller wasn't giving up, were they?

"Why me?" he moaned to himself, but he already knew the answer. _Why not him?_

Elliot sat up, tossing the pillow to the floor, shook himself awake, and picked up the receiver.

Immediately, the room fell silent. "Stabler," he muttered incoherently.

"_Hello, Detective Stabler." _A low, silky voice spoke as if right in his ear, obviously male and completely unfamiliar. What?

"Who the hell are you?" he said without preamble. Anyone calling like this at four a.m. had better not be expecting him to be courteous. The voice laughed. It sounded odd, unfocused and fuzzy like an old record player with the needle not quite right. "_That does not concern you, Detective Stabler. You need to listen to me, very closely."_

Elliot was definitely awake now. "What the hell?"

"_You need to watch your language, Detective. You might offend someone."_

"I- is that supposed to be a threat?"

"_Merely a suggestion. I need you to pay very close attention to what I am saying. I'll only say this once. I have some very specific instructions I need you to follow."_

"You know what, I'm hanging up now. I don't appreciate prank calls."

He slammed the phone back into its cradle. "Stupid kids."

He made a mental note to have his number taken out of the phone book. Anyone could find you these days. He rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep. Not ten seconds later, the silence was again shattered, this time by his cell phone. Elliot groaned, and went digging through the pockets of yesterday's clothing.

He knew he'd left it in there somewhere…aha!

He pulled it out, and glanced at the caller ID. Number unknown. He shrugged, flipped it open—and felt all sensation fleeing his body as his blood turned to ice in his veins.

A picture of Olivia filled the small screen. Olivia, bound and gagged, looking up at the camera with glazed eyes. A pool of blood had formed around her, running from a gash in the side of her head. A masked figure held a gun to her temple.

She was being held prisoner.

His cell rang again. The same unknown number. A message popped up. **Are you interested now? **Elliot's heart began to beat again, faster and faster in rage and fear. Another message appeared. **This is untraceable, by the way, so don't even bother. **Shit. This guy was one step ahead of him already. He could always be lying, but somehow Elliot didn't think so. And judging by the picture, he didn't have much time. Olivia had already lost too much blood.

The house phone rang. Elliot stood transfixed. This couldn't be a coincidence. He stared at the phone, half afraid to pick it up, half wanting to smash it to pieces. Another text message appeared. **Pick up the phone, Detective**.

Fuck. Were they watching him?

He steeled himself, and picked up the phone. "You sick bastard!!" he yelled, not caring if the other tenants heard. This was personal.

"_That's not very nice, now is it Detective?"_

Elliot shuddered. It was the same voice as last night. It fell into his ears like mercury; beautiful and deceptively slow, but deadly. "You picked the wrong girl to kidnap, buddy. I'll have your ass in cuffs before you can sneeze."

"_I think not, Detective. You see, you are going to do exactly as I say, when I say it, and I'm afraid 'slapping my ass in cuffs,' as you so quaintly put it, does not figure into my plans."_

"Your plans can go to hell! I don't co-operate with criminals."

"_Even when said criminal hold the lives of your loved ones in his hands? One word from me, Detective, and she dies."_

"That's—impossible. You're lying—"

"_Impossible? Nothing is impossible, Detective. For instance--your lady partner-- you care for her, do you not? I imagine you'd like her to continue breathing? This is not impossible—if you do as I ask. Otherwise I'm afraid her life may become painfully short. Am I understood?"_

A silence filled the room at those words. The deadly promise they held was unmistakable. Elliot went cold.

"What guarantee have I that she's not dead already?" Elliot said at last, the words cutting at his tongue as he said them.

No. She couldn't be dead. She just couldn't. He wouldn't let her be dead.

"_I do not lie, Detective. But if my word is not enough for you—see for yourself."_

The small TV in the corner of the room lit up, turning on of its own accord. A video began to play. Olivia, out cold on the floor. She was pale as death, and not moving, but if he watched closely he could see her breath.

Olivia…. Somehow, Elliot had lost control of this situation. No—he had never been in control. He didn't know where it was going now, but he had to ride it out. Olivia was depending on him.

"_She's rather cute when she's not trying to attack you, don't you agree? I'd hate to have to kill that. Such a waste…"_

"You—If she dies I swear to god I'll—!!" He couldn't even finish the sentence.

There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again, softer this time. _"It's not fair, is it? I know everything about you. I know your strengths and your weak-nesses, your loves and hates, and you… you know nothing about me. I'd say I'm sorry, Detective, but—I'm not." _The man sounded almost—bitter, for a moment, but that passed quickly.

"_Will you do as I say?"_

Elliot balled his hands into fists, muscles straining with the desire to crush this bastard.

But in the end, his choice was already made.

"What would you have me do?"

The voice- the voice _smiled. _There was no other word for it. ­_"Good. This is what you must do…"_

-___-___--__-___-__-------____-_____----_____-___---____--___--___----__--__--___--


	3. Chapter 3

-___-___--__-___-__-------____-_____----_____-___---____--___--___----__--__--___--

**Chapter Two: Meetings**

Olivia lay deep in a fitful sleep. She had slept peacefully at first, but soon enough the horrors she saw every day had invaded the sanctuary of her dreams as they so often did.

_The faces of six nine year old girls stared reproachfully at her, bruised and battered, graying and slack skinned in death._ _"Why didn't you save us, Olivia?" they accused,_ _"why didn't you catch him?" _

"_I'm trying! I'm so sorry!"_

"_Where is our justice, Olivia? How could you let him stay on the streets?"_

"_I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry!"_

"_you know who did this, Olivia. Why wont you arrest him?"_

"_I don't know, I don't know who it is! Why are you doing this!"_

_The three girls stared unblinkingly at her, their dead eyes ripping into her. "But you do know. You know so well. Why...why can't you save us? Why is he still on the streets?" Desperately, Olivia tried to justify, to apologize to the phantoms, but in her heart of hearts she agreed with them. She should have been able to get them justice. It was her fault they weren't at peace._

"_Where is our justice, Olivia? You killed us, Olivia… you let him kill us." _

_Their faces began to warp and twist, becoming less human. Hair grew long and snarled, eyes took on an otherworldly cast. Scales sprouted from their skin, grew, and faded back into pink flesh. And all the while, whispering her name._

"_Olivia…" _

__-_-__

_Riiing. Riiing. Riiing!_

The phone was screaming in her ears. She needed to wake up.

Olivia slowly fought her way up from the depths of her dreams. They were reluctant to let her go, clinging to her limbs and dragging her down. But, slow as swimming through molasses, she made her way into wakefulness.

She rolled over, grabbed the receiver. "Benson."

"_Hello Detective," _a velvety voice whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes tiredly. "Yeah, who's this?"

"_You don't know me, but I—I know your partner."_

"Whaa?" she said blankly. "You know Elliot?"

The man laughed._ "Mmm, yes. Intimately."_

Olivia was mystified as to why this man was calling her. "Oo-kay?" She drew the syllables out, making the word a question all by itself. "You forget his number or something?" Even to her that sounded implausible, but it was the only reason she could think of for a friend of Elliot to be calling her. Especially at this ridiculous hour of the night.

Her question elicited another chuckle from the mystery person. _"Oh no. I don't need his number. In fact he's right here with me, right now. Of course, he's a bit tied up at the moment…"_

Olivia was getting fed up. This was pointless and annoying, and the man's voice was starting to grate on her ears. There was an unpleasant hum that resonated beneath the drawling tones, and it was giving her a headache.

'You know what?' she thought, 'screw politeness. This guy is pissing me off,'

"Look, that's all very nice for you, but I have things to do." Like sleep, she added mentally. "So unless you have a point here…" she let the sentence hang.

The velvet voiced man sighed heavily. _"Gods you're slow, woman."_

"Excuse me?"

"_Since you don't seem to pick up on subtleties, I'm going to be blunt here, much as it pains me. I have your partner. I'm not giving him back unless you do as I say."_

Olivia froze. "What did you say?"

"_I can see we're going to have to take this slow. I. Will. Kill. Him. If. You. Do. -operate. You got that?"_

Olivia tightened her lips into a scowl. This wasn't funny. "I got it all right. Now I don't know who you are, and I don't care. You like prank calling people, fine, that's your problem. But keep me and Elliot out of it."

The voice laughed. _"Oh, this isn't a joke, sweet cheeks. I assure you, I am perfectly serious."_

Olivia growled, both at the man's words and at the pet name. 'Stupid sexist bastard.' She wrapped her hand tighter around the receiver,imagining it was the man's neck. This idiot didn't know when to stop, did he?

The thought that he was telling the truth never even crossed her mind. Elliot was too smart, to tough to let himself get kidnapped. Now, how to get this guy off the phone…  
"I suppose if I hang up on you you'll just call again and again, right?"

"_Naturally. I will also slice your partner up, one cut for each time I have to call you."_

"Fine. Show me proof that what you say is true, or I'm hanging up and disconnecting the phone. And then I'll have you arrested for attempted blackmail. That is what you're trying to do, right?"

"_Gods, you're just as obstinate as he is, aren't you? Well now. I'd let you talk to him, but he seems to be a tad unconscious at the moment. What to do, what to do… ah! Got it!" _With an audible click, the TV in the other room turned on. What the hell?

"_Go into the living room and take a good look at the television screen. This is a program you won't want to miss." _

Half curious, half frightened, and all mystified as to how the man had managed to hack her TV, Olivia took the receiver from her ear and slipped from her bed, striding into the other room. And paled in shock. She sat down heavily. Elliot's battered face stared out at her from the screen, pale and pinched in unconsciousness; a rough gag was stuffed in his mouth, and a trickle of blood ran from between his lips.

Olivia trembled with rage. "That bastard…" she whispered, voice shaking. He- he was telling the truth! He really… he'd really done it.

"You utter utter bastard!" she said, louder this time. She raised the receiver slowly back to her ear. "You hurt him and I'll kill you!" she screamed into the receiver, and the man on the other end yelped. _"Hey, watch the volume, lady! So, you want him back or not? Cuz if not, I can think of some __very entertaining __things to do with him before I kill him, you catch my drift?"_

Olivia blanched at the insinuation. "What do you want from me?"

"_Oh good, you've decided to co-operate! I was hoping you would; Ol' Ells here—he ain't really my type. I like 'em a bit younger, you know what I mean? Now, this is what you must do…"_

--_____--__--__-_--____--__-_--_---__-__-_____--_-----

**Central park, Fountain of Magical Beasts. 5:01 AM**

It was still dark, away from the lights of the city. This place was deep inside the park, in the less well kept places off the beaten path. The fountain had once been beautiful, but had been allowed to fall into disrepair, and stood vine covered and crumbling; the few inches of stagnant water left in the basin stank of rotting leaves and cigarette butts.

Elliot fingered the large wad of cash he was holding; twenty thousand dollars—he had dipped deeply into his cash reserves for this, but he'd had no choice. Bile rose in his throat—what he was doing here went against everything he believed in, everything he stood for as a cop. Co-operating with this man, giving him money, not reporting this immediately… it felt wrong. He had never thought he would be so weak as to let himself be blackmailed.

But somehow, this man had found his weak spot—Olivia. Were it almost anyone else, Elliot would have followed procedure. Done the whole, 'no, I can't do that, release her immediately and maybe you'll only get a few years' routine. But this was different. Olivia was different. She was his partner, yes, but there was so much more. She was his friend, his confidant, his trusted deputy. No—she wasn't that. They were equals, each watching the others back, each trusting the other to be there… they didn't always see eye to eye, but that was what made them perfect. What Elliot couldn't see, Olivia could. What Olivia missed, Elliot found.

They were a pair, the two of them. A perfect match.

And if there was even the slightest chance that this kidnapper would kill her—Elliot was never going to take that risk.

Not ever.

A twig cracked nearby, pulling Elliot out of his troubled thoughts. He stood, fists clenched tight around the bills at his side. This had to be the silk voiced man. No one else would come here. Another twig. Elliot's heart rate sped up. He was here, he had brought the money—this was it. He only hoped he was in time. Olivia hadn't looked at all good in the video, and that had been almost an hour ago. Detachedly, some part of his mind noted how incredibly fast this was going—a kidnapping, a ransom demand, and the drop off all in the space of a few hours. It had to be a record or something.

The person was nearer now. They seemed to be coming through the woods, heedless of the path. Not that he really blamed them. So many leaves and fallen branches had overgrown the thin gravel walkway, it could hardly even be called a path anymore. This place seemed wild, out of place among the ordered trees and well-lit paths of Central Park. The trees had grown tall and thick, braches interweaving and twining to form a solid mass. You'd need a machete to cut through some of this. The birches and oaks, normally quite friendly trees, seemed to exude menace in the murky light of dawn—it was as if they didn't want him here.

Elliot restrained a nervous chuckle and forced himself back to reality. Trees didn't menace, and he had to be alert. The person was very near now, their progress through the undergrowth far faster than Elliot would have expected. It seemed the branches and brambles hid not hinder this man. He tensed, ready for anything. There was no knowing what this man was planning. He might try to jump Elliot and take the money, making off with it and letting Olivia rot.

The rustlings intensified. Closer.

Closer.

Ten feet away; four feet; two—

A familiar face poked out of the thorn bushes at his feet.

"Olivia!!" He practically choked on her name her name, and in a heartbeat he had pulled her to her feet and clasped her tight to his chest. "Olivia, 'Liv, thank god! Thank god you're okay." He murmured her name over and over, breathing in her presence. She was safe, she had escaped, she—

She was crying, hugging him and saying the same things he had been saying.

"Oh my god, Elliot! How did you escape?! Are you alright?!"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about! Escape who! You were the one kidnapped, not me!" She looked at him, her expression mirroring his own. Only now did Elliot realize why he'd thought something was off about her appearance. The gash at her temple—it wasn't there. She wasn't bleeding, she wasn't fainting or exhausted… In fact, she looked merely tired and hugely relieved.

Olivia seemed to be going through the same revelation process. "You—you're not hurt! What happened to the blood, the, the—what the hell is going on?!"

"What blood?"

"The—in the video—"

The story came tumbling out of her, words running into one another in their rush to escape.

The truth hit Elliot like a ton of bricks. "This man—what'd he sound like? Low silky voice, accent, sounds like he's in his middle thirties?"

Olivia shook her head. "Not really. This guy sounded young, late teens, and his voice was more of a tenor. Why?"

"Because someone called me tonight with the exact same story, told me to come here. He even pulled the same trick with the fake video."

Dead silence fell as the truth hit home.

"Someone pulled the same scam on both of us."

Olivia shook her head, perhaps even more confused now then she had been earlier. "But how is this even possible? You can't hack a TV, not like that. And you said it sounded like a different guy!"

"Maybe he had an accomplice. Maybe he disguised his voice. Does it matter?"

"Alright, I'm willing to accept that this is connected, that much is obvious. But this guy's no idiot, he must have known we'd find each other. Why would he send us to the same place?"

She was right, it did sound implausible when put like that. What kind of blackmailer sends both the blackmail-ees to the same place at the same time, when he's using the threat of each other's death to blackmail them in the first place? But what other explanation was there?

And that sentence—was that even comprehensible, let alone grammatically correct? Was he mangling this thought as bad as it seemed to him?

Shit. The surrealism of this situation was setting in now, clouding his thoughts. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't think straight. He was thinking in circles, straying onto tangents when he needed to be alert. He had a hunch this wasn't over yet.

**A very short interlude**

Several yards away, in the undergrowth

"_Sev! Is that them?"_

"_I would assume so. Who else would be here at this time of night?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, but they don't look Unseelie."_

"_And what, pray, does Unseelie look like, Black?"_

"_Well… you know, claws, fangs, dripping jowls…that type of thing."_

"_You do realize your boyfriend would fit that description rather well, don't you?"_

"_Who, Rems? Nah! He's not technically fey, so it doesn't count."_

"_It doesn't matter if they don't look it, she's got the blood. I'd know that scent anywhere."_

"_Oh yeah, you used to __be__ Unseelie, didn't you Sevvie?"_

"_... I still am Unseelie, you idiot. And don't call me Sevvie."_

"_Sure thing, Sevvie-kins darling._

"_Don't push me. Harry's not around at the moment, so there's nothing stopping me from ripping your throat out, dog."_

"_Sure thing Sevvie-baby, now shutties. They're about to figure it out, and I don't want to miss our cue."_

"_Our 'cue'? It's not a play, Black, this is serious…. Oh hell."_

"_Heh. You walked right into that one."_

"_Quiet, dog. You want your god-son back or not?"_

**End of short interlude**

Back by the fountain

Silence had fallen for a few short moments, while the two of them pondered this mystery. A thought stuck Elliot, and not a pleasant one. "Olivia. What if the silk-voiced man knew we'd find each other? What if he'd planned it all along?"

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "But to what purpose?" she murmured, then breathed in sharply. "If he wants us both here, then—this isn't black mail at all. That's just a ruse. This whole thing was an elaborate set up, a way to get us alone. But what does he want from us? We've brought money, but if he'd sent us to different places he could have collected it easier, surely."

"Unless the money isn't his objective here. What if—what if it's us?"

A small sound behind them, as loud as a gunshot in their over-stimulated minds.

Slowly, very slowly, the two detectives turned to face the man—no, men, there were two—that had appeared like wraiths out of the darkness of the trees. The features of both were hidden by shadow, though Olivia could make out the general shape of their faces nonetheless. One loomed huge in the darkness, taller than her, taller than Elliot—that man had to be at least 6'7", taller perhaps. The other was slightly shorter, though still quite tall, and willowy slim. Both held themselves like fighters, easily balanced with a catlike grace that rivaled her own. They, like her, seemed to have come through the trees, though judging by their slightly muddy clothes and scratched hands (from what she could see), the seemed to have had a slightly rougher time with it.

It was the smaller who moved first, and as Olivia and Elliot stood frozen, the two stepped forward into the light. Olivia's heart filled with a strange dread at the sight of them, more frightened than she was willing to admit.

The larger was truly enourmous, there was no doubt about it. Tall and broad of shoulder, the man had dark, ebony black hair falling softly to his shoulders, curling slightly. Warm brown eyes, with the haunted look one found sometimes in the eyes of soldiers, sat deep in hollow cheeks, and the face below was obscured by a cloth worn over his nose and mouth. The man was very handsome, but an air of danger hung about him, of wildness and feral grace. This man could kill you in a second, Olivia knew.

But somehow, the second seemed the more dangerous of the two.

He stood slightly shorter than the first, but his presence was such that he appeared to loom over him. Slightly greasy looking black locks fell lank down his back, a section falling across his face and hiding it from view.

Everything about him, from the way he stood to the way his hands twitched as he stood, whispered near inaudibly of danger. He glanced up at her through dark lashes, and Olivia gasped. His eyes—they were a deep black, more so than his counter part, absorbing all light and reflecting nothing. They missed nothing, darting here and there like a restless searchlight, taking note of everything.

Olivia's breathing quickened. These men were dangerous—beautiful, and dangerous.

Her heart beat erratically within her ribs as he met her eyes. Brown eyes stared into glaring lightless black, and Olivia stood, trembling. She had been held hostage by crazed gunmen, had rapists hold guns to her head, and none of it had caused her heart to beat quite like this. It fluttered like a frightened bird, pounded like a caged elephant, jumped to her throat and plummeted through her stomach. This man screamed predator.

The man narrowed his eyes and blinked once, and Olivia could abruptly move again. He still oozed with menace, but Olivia was no longer transfixed by his lightless eyes. He walked with a cat's grace and focus, and his burning obsidian eyes never left her face. The hunter tilted his head and stepped forward, moving fluidly over the rough ground. He was nearer now, only a few yards away. "Unseelie. You will come with us, or you will be slaughtered like so many of my people have been."

His voice diamond hard and sharp edged, with the barest thrill of a growl lurking beneath the words; no hint of anything but un-yielding hatred could be heard. He smiled viscously, and his white teeth flashed in the darkness. The second man stepped forward now, and put a warning hand on the first's shoulder. "Cool it Sev. Remember what we're here for."

Olivia growled. Now that she had gotten over the shock of their sudden appearance, her fear was turning into anger. Who were these people? What right had they to order her around, worry her, make her think her partner was dying?

"I don't know who you are or what your quarrel with us is—" the man who had first spoken snorted angrily, and directed a death glare at her. She sniffed disdainfully and continued without pause. "—but if you really think we're going anywhere with you, you've got another think coming." Beside her, Elliot was nodding, his face grim. They wouldn't be going down without a fight. The two were essentially unarmed, but then, so were their would-be-captors. It would be an even fight.

The man sneered at their twin expressions of defiance, and narrowed his eyes. "You don't have a choice, Unseelie bitch."

Olivia snarled, and lost her temper. "Like hell I don't!" she bit out, and went for the knife she had hidden in the top of her boot prior to leaving her apartment. She wasn't carrying her gun at the moment, for obvious reasons, but a knife would to do just as well for what she had in mind. The words disembowel and fillet had a nice ring to them. She had the small blade out in a flash, and lunged for the man who had called her a bitch. Elliot could handle the other one no problem, and this was personal. She wasn't quite sure why it was personal, but it was somehow. The man laughed nastily, his eyes lighting up as he drew a knife of his own. He seemed to be enjoying this, falling easily into a fighter's crouch. The man moved like an experienced fighter, with no trace of the slowness or lack of coordination that plagued many big men. He slashed at her tauntingly, then danced away when she dodged the blow, crouching and circling like a predator at bay. The whole time the same viscous, hateful smile lingered on his lips.

Vaguely Olivia was aware of Elliot engaged in a similar fight with the smaller man, but her sphere of concentration was rapidly closing until it was just her and her opponent. She slashed again at the man, aiming for the torso. She didn't want to kill him, not when they might need to question him. The man ducked under her blade and came up inside her guard, his knife flashing up and coming to rest against her throat. "Just you try to move," he breathed in her ear, low and dangerous, "One move, just one twitch and I see what color you bleed, understand?" She glared at him, hatred igniting her eyes. The man saw this, and laughed silkily. "So helpless now, aren't we, little princess?"

"Asshole."

"Black!" he said suddenly, turning his head to look at where Elliot and the small man were still scuffling in the dirt. "Wrap it up! We've got what we need."

There was a noncommittal grunt from the other man, and a loud crash. Olivia glanced over and to her horror found Elliot in a similar situation to herself, pinned to the ground by the other man, and streaming blood from a wound in one shoulder. He was looking decidedly unpleased with this turn of events, bucking and struggling under the other man, but the other held him down with ease. "Okay, we're good!" He looked down at the still squirming Elliot. "Look, sorry 'bout this dude, but we need your help. So like it or not, you're coming with us." He gave Elliot one last apologetic look, then narrowed his eyes and lowered his face to Elliot's. For one horrified moment, Olivia thought he was going to kiss him, but no.

He stared into Elliot's eyes, lips moving slowly as he formed some sort of words or chant. Olivia was mystified. What the hell was he doing? The man then straightened up and casually rapped a fist against Elliot's temple. Immediately, his struggles ceased, and the man--Black, was that what her captor had called him?— climbed to his feet.

The man holding Olivia looked at her now, a nasty smirk ghosting over his lips.

"Interesting bit of role reversal, isn't it, little Unseelie?"

She thrashed desperately, but the hilt of his knife crashed into her head, and she knew no more.

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End file.
